I Was Young Once
by PointlessArrow
Summary: As she is deployed to Korea in what will prove to be her Swan Song, a ship reminisces about her youth. A series of flashbacks of a decrepit and obscure steamer in the Korean War who nevertheless made history (and brushed elbows with naval legends) throughout her remarkable career.
1. Prologue: The Magic Carpet

**AN:** I got this idea for this snippet on a plane while thinking randomly about Forrest Gump and how he tells random passer-by his story as he waits for the bus. In a similar fashion, in this story the main character/ship spirit's identity will be strongly hinted but never explicitly given until later chapters (kind of like how people didn't recognize that Forrest Gump was the same man of legend until he gave them identifying vignettes in his random musings). Because of that, the ship spirit will be identified mostly as "She" in speaking.

* * *

"Come on boys," an officer barked, gesturing wildly with his hands and he guided the aimless column of ragtag troops along. "Let's go, let's go!"

"Move along, move along!" another American echoed encouragingly. "You'll be back home in Japan in no time!"

The former IJA soldiers answered with deafening silence. Language barriers aside, they were in no shape to express anything but utter exhaustion. These could hardly be mistaken for the zealous infantrymen who had made headlines with their terrifying alacrity in occupying the far corners of Asia. Many of them were malnourished conscripts who had seen the end of war, and a war they had not won.

The few who had the strength to talk in Japanese had little positive to say.

 _"Can't see…I can't see anything…"_

 _"Rice…what would I do for a grain of rice…"_

 _"I just want to go home…"_

The Americans glanced at each other uneasily. Although the Pacific War had ended several months prior, the status quo was far from sight. On the numerous forsaken islands in the Pacific were enclaves of Japanese troops who had surrendered to the United States. It was now time to repatriate them.

In the Philippines, this meant tackling the logistical nightmare of transporting thousands of recently-released Japanese prisoners-of-war/ The docks and quays were so packed with men that they seemed to form a snake of sweat and khaki deep inland. Palanquins containing the ill and wounded dotted the organized chaos.

There was a shout as a skeleton crew manning one of the makeshift stretchers tipped precariously over the quayside, threatening to unceremoniously catapult its feverish inhabitant in the water.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" The American officer shouted, signally frantically with his arms at the dazed pallbearers. "Watch what you're doing; you almost dropped the poor soul! Cooper, Henry, can you take over for them? The poor Japs are in as bad of shape as he is. You two," he turned his attention back to the awkwardly shuffling Japanese. "Go ahead and get on board, we'll take care of him."

The two stared at him bewilderedly as if the American was a shapeshifting alien from outer space.

"Your friend is good," the officer repeated once more, jerking his head at the patient as a medic tended to him, "go ahead!" He gave them a thumbs up disappearing back into the crowd.

The two men in turn resumed their journey, stumbling aimlessly towards the ships that would take them home.

 _It's funny_ , the taller and older of the duo mused to himself, _that my career has brought me here_. _I wanted to become an artist, or maybe even a writer. In the end though, I became neither._ The soldier sighed in resignation as he adjusted his headwrapping, his "masterpiece" from participating in the art of war. A few years ago he had the strength to vocally express discontent with Japan's path, but now it took a monstrous effort to even move his right foot. "At least I still have a foot," he murmured to himself.

His downward gaze unexpectedly caught sight of another pair of feet, a pair that was far smaller and more feminine than his own.

 _"It's okay,"_ a voice chimed in as if reading his thoughts. " _Whatever you've been through, it's done now. You did your best, and now it's time to go home_." To his right was a thin, small woman (and much to his surprise not much older-looking than himself) propping him against her shoulder as she guided them to the ships.

" _You speak Japanese?"_ he croaked in disbelief. The man wasn't sure what surprised him more: that this stranger was capable of understand his emotions and speaking his tongue, or that there was a woman (a _Japanese_ woman at that) accompanying the Americans in the operation. She didn't look like a nurse either, not with a ragged outfit like that.

 _"I do, but forgive me, it is not my first language."_

 _"I see."_ He did his best to mask his disappointment. _"What are you here for then?"_

 _"To do my job."_

 _"Your job? Isn't it a bit awkward being around…men…all the time?_

 _"I'm used to it. I used to take up jobs like this back in the day. I find it quite fun really."_ She gestured at the mob behind them. _"It's been a while since I've seen a host this big."_

 _"We may be many, but that does not mean much,"_ he interrupted his cynical musings to gaze intently at the vessel he was about to embark.

 _"This is a ship_?"

 _"She may not be a first-class warship but she is a steamer, aye."_

 _"She must be very old…"_ he shook his head sadly. _"Her hull is so rusted, and that steel seems razor-thin from wear and tear. It's amazing that she's still afloat_."

The woman remained respectfully silent.

 _"…but it's strange really,"_ the soldier resumed, _"this ship…it speaks volumes to me…as if I have a spiritual connection to it. We were both young once, but now,"_ There was a tremor in his voice as he hesitated briefly. _"You must think me mad, don't you?"_

 _"Oh, not at all. Not at all._ "

* * *

 **AN:** The anti-war Japanese survivor isn't a fictional character but in fact based upon one of the ship's more famous visitors in this period, who became famous as a talented anti-war writer in the Postwar period.


	2. Chapter 1: Accidents Happen

In the southern footholds of the Republic of Korea, the United States Navy was hard at work. No sooner had one chapter of history ended than another one began, this time with an old spectral menace at the helm. Having recently quashed the ambitions of Imperial Japan, America now faced off Communism and its ideological vessel the DPRK in the Pacific. It was hard honest work to be sure, but all the same many a spirit was excited at the prospect of stretching her legs and being in the midst of the action again.

Of course, it wasn't just their fight. Nations far and wide came to aid the beleaguered Koreans and their navy. For instance, the United Kingdom was in the process of sending a force to assist in the recovery of South Korean territory, and other Commonwealth nations were following suit.

But of these naval reinforcements, Japan would probably be last in the list as a prospective contributor. With the end of World War II, the Japanese Navy was no more, having been succeeded by a tiny collection of maritime vessels for self-defence. True, Japan was in close proximity to the mainland, but such an interaction would seem…awkward, to say the least.

Yet there she was, an old rusting hulk at anchor in the port of Busan, silently protecting and housing the Japanese contingent in Korea as well as directing the smaller land vessels ashore. In her sorry state and stationary role, the steamer wasn't going to be ordered anywhere anytime soon. Not that she personally minded; it had been a long time since she had weighed anchor in Korean waters, and she was looking forward to enjoying the city landscape in her decades-long absence.

It was said that the Republic of Korea had gotten the short end of the stick when the partition came, with few resources and mostly manpower to guide the nation's development. The war effort certainly did the ROK few favors in that regard; the streets were filled with refugees seeking asylum from the combat to the far north. Nevertheless, there was a certain charm to the atmosphere. The people were anxious but full of hope; the various shantytowns and struggling businesses seemed like the zaibatsu she had heard so much about back home.

Actually…were the zaibatsu still around? Did they even peddle power anymore?

All that salt from many years at sea was starting to addle her brain…

 _"Oooooiiiii, ooooiiiiiiiiiii!"_

 _Tooooooooooooooooooooot. Tooooooot._

The steamship nearly jumped at the sight before her. In front of her very eyes was a pair of monstrously large and monstrously long warships, their spiritual incarnations greeting each other in passing.

"Long time no see, sis."

"I've been quite busy in my duties. The northern Koreans are dug in pretty well, and it's up to me and my sixteen-inch shells to weed them out."

 _Sixteen-inch shells?_ She let out a low whistle in awe. Only an ignorant fool would have never heard of the Yamato sisters, a trio so potent and so well-armed they were supposedly their own "fleet-in-being," but only a select few ever had the honor of seeing them, let alone working with one. Unfortunately, those fortunate few were now at the bottom of the ocean, or too far away to ever enrich her life of tales about their adventures.

Perhaps the two were there when the Yamato sisters were vanquished. Perhaps they quietly trembled in fear at the mere sound of one sortieing out. For all intents and purposes however they were as close to seeing Yamato in the flesh as she could possibly get, and she was willing to let her imagination run wild. The loud friendly one with strawberry blonde hair was undoubtedly the "Yamato" of the duo, while the martial newcomer to the right was undoubtedly "Musashi."

"Bagged any Commies?"

"Hmmm…" 'Musashi' put her hands to her lips thoughtfully. "Hard to say; it was long-ranged bombardment. I came back her for patrols and to resupply, then I'm heading back out into the fray."

"Well, fuck them in the eyes I say, and watch out for those rocks!" 'Yamato' burst out into mad-laughter as 'Musashi' turned redder than her sister's hair.

"That was _once_ , okay? I was just trying to follow protocol-"

"Did SecNav himself come before you in a dream and tell you to hump those rocks dry?" 'Yamato' snarked. "In all honesty though, sis, I'm glad you're okay. It could have ended a lot worse for you and your bow."

Her _bow?_ She strained eyes to gain a closer look, but unfortunately her civilian design prevented her from discerning any concrete features. All she saw was a very, very, very round button nose. Handsome, but otherwise nothing of note.

There was something soothing about the revelation that a majestic of a warship such as 'Musashi' had had her own fair share of awkward incidents. It reminded her of a time when she was greener and younger. She had just come out of the docks when, well…

 _"Are you okay?" the ocean liner screeched, shaking her furiously like a doll. "Are you OKAY?"_

 _"I'm fine," she groaned, doing her best not look down._

 _"Are YOU OKAY?"_

 _"I'm fine."_

 _"ANSWER ME OR I SWEAR BY NEPTUNE'S BEARD I WILL MAKE YOUR VOCAL CORDS SING."_

 _"I'm FINE!" she roared. "Or, as fine as a ship that just took a surprise penetration mid-ships can be."_

 _"I'm really sorry…" the ocean liner whimpered. "I was in a hurry, and I didn't see you and oh god oh GAWD I made a huge gash in your—"_

 _"JAPAN! It's FINE!" There was an awkward silence as she tried brushing her hands nonchalantly. "Just stay put; it's already a done deal, everything is under control, just let the humans work everything out—"_

 _"So do you want me to pull out?"_

 _"No."_

 _"Let me start reversing my engines."_

 _"Nah, I'm good. You stay put."_

 _"Who knows, maybe it's just a scratch-let me see—"_

 _"I think that doing so is less than ideal."_

 _"Give me a second, the crew are stopping to assess the damage but if I focus hard enough I think I can—"_

 _"JAPAN! Are you TRYING tah turn me into this into the next Camperdown incident for fook's sake? Just calm the hell down, and let the humans do their—"_

 _Blub. Blub._

 _That didn't sound good._

 _"I made a mistake!" Japan bawled. "Let me pull you back to port!"_

"Oi, you there! Granny boat!" 'Yamato' snapped as the two Americans detected the laughing Japanese spirit in the background.

"The fuck is so funny? Get a move on, will you? There are landing troops to transport, Americans to support, Commies to kill, and Koreans needing saving!"

* * *

 **AN:** As you probably guessed, "Yamato" is actually New Jersey and "Musashi" is Missouri. As the ship spirit never worked with Yamato and Missouri, I like to imagine that she internalized how Yamato and Musashi would have looked according to the appearances of the Iowa sisters, both physically and spiritually.


End file.
